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Riptide: a noun:
a dangerous area of
strongly moving water in the sea,
where two or more currents meet
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Also:
A strong negative feeling
or force that is difficult to control.
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Or
In witch an old family friend comes back into...
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Margret Singer took a deep breath, her stomach tucked in and she lifted up onto her toes. She felt her partner as his hands gripped her waist and gently spun her around. Without a though, she jumped into her next move.
The last few moves of their routine.
When clapping was heard, they each took a bow and walked off the stage.
More clapping was heard as they entered the back room of the theatre. Margret smiled they sat down.
"You guys did great." One said as they came up to them. Margret nodded in thanks as she took a sip of her water.
"Couldn't do it without the best partner."
Margret rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Deven. You know it's you."
"Yeah. I'm just trying to be nice." Margret grabbed the nearest object and tossed it in his direction, he dodged it. The two laughed and the others all went to doing their own thing.
"Alright, everyone."
The class all turned their attention to their teacher as she approached the students. They quieted down and listens as she began talking.
"That was great. But next week, we have to be better. There are special guests coming from all over to watch the third years preform, and this is where it counts. So please, stretch, practice, meditate, do whatever it is that helps you, and Margaret, no over practicing." She said looking right at the girl.
Margret sheepishly smiled and nodded. It was obvious to everyone in the class that Margret Singer was one of the best students. She had impressed her teachers and it was no surprise when she started to become of a favourite to everyone. People begged her to be their dance partner when it was needed. She always denied however because she really only danced with Deven. He was one of the second best in the class. They always would work together.
After their teacher dismissed them, Margret said goodbye to everyone and to Deven. She had packed her things and got her keys and made her way out the theatre and into her car. She drove home in a happy silence.
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As she got out of her car, and walked up to her door, she noticed it was slightly ajar. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. She knew her roommate, Amy, would never leave the door open.
Margret reached into her bag and pulled out her knife,—One she kept in there at all times—, and slowly entered the house. As she kept her footsteps quiet, she walked over to the kitchen sink once she cleared the area of anything. She placed her knife down and opened the cabinet and grabbed the gun she kept there.
She never felt safe unless she knew she could protect herself. She guessed it was the hunter in her. The paranoia never really went away when she stopped.
Holding the gun tightly in her hands, she walked further into the house. She took notice in the open windows and cursed in her head as she walked up the stairs.
She cleared her room, the washroom, and the guest room. But one room, as she nears, she could tell something was wrong.
So, using her foot, she slowly opened Amy's door. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the scene. Amy, was laying face down. Her neck twisted, her skin pale.
Dropping her gun, Margret rushed over to her friend. She dropped to her knees and placed her head in her lap, her blank eyes looked up at her.
"No." She whispered.
Her hands shook as she closed her eyes with her fingers. Margret took a breath before she stood up and decided to call 911.
Then, she would make another call.
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The next morning, after they came and took her friends body away, Margret got to work.
"Hey, Dad..."
Margret softly smiled as she heard her father on the other end. She decided to call him. She needed help because she knew what had happened to her friend. She knew what killed her.
"Hi, pumpkin. How are yah?"
Margret sighed. "I—I'm okay. Look, I need help. My friend....she—she was killed, I think it was something..."
"Hunt worthy?"
"Yeah. Do you think—-"
"Sorry, hun. I'm working on another case right now. I could send someone...."
Margret shook her head, but then remembered her father couldn't see her so she politely denied. She could do this on her own. She thought to herself.
So, after saying goodbye to Bobby, she hung up her phone and got to work.
The word Vampire kept echoing in her head as she gathered the news paper and her weapons. When she found Amy, she was pale. Her neck was twisted. And, she remembered seeing two, small, puncture wounds in her neck.
She was confident that that's what it was. She just needed proof.
